He shook his head. ‘I don’t care about them. I don’t. I get it. I get why you did it.’
He leaned back in his chair and ran his hand though his hair and then clasped his hands behind his neck.
‘I had a shitty childhood. It was tough and we didn’t have any help until the night my mother tried to kill my father.’
‘Jesus,’ said Christa.
‘She failed,’ said Marc. ‘But we were taken away from our parents and then ended up in the system. My whole life, I have run away from my past, avoided doing anything that might make me feel anything other than successful and yet you, with your own shitty upbringing, you run towards it now. You’re not afraid of it. You want to help.’
Christa said nothing as they looked at each other.
‘So why do you run towards it when I run away? What are you looking for and what am I avoiding?’
She shrugged and smiled a little. ‘I told you I’m not here to be your therapist.’
‘I know, but it’s interesting, isn’t it? We have had similar struggles and yet we’re coping with them so differently.’
She pushed her tea away.
‘The difference is love,’ she said.
‘How so?’
‘Because even though my dad struggled with alcohol, and we ate at refuges and used the food bank, I knew he loved me. I knew he hated himself but he loved me more and that was finally enough to make him stop drinking. But you, it sounds like you had terrible parents who didn’t care for anyone but themselves. You weren’t loved.’
She saw Marc’s eyes fill with tears and she felt terrible for saying what she’d said.
‘Sorry, that’s not my call to say that. I shouldn’t have said it.’
But he shook his head. ‘No, you’re right. They were narcissistic nightmares. They hated having children. We were a burden yet they kept having more. I sometimes wonder why people have kids if they don’t like them.’
‘Why did you have children?’ she asked him.
‘I wanted children and so did my ex-wife. It was exciting to find out we were having twins. But I wasn’t a great parent. I haven’t been but I’m trying to get better. Pudding Hall has been great for me to see them and do more with them. That’s why I didn’t worry about school while they’re here; I just wanted to let them have a proper break. I mean, I know I’m full of shit because I’ve been working so much, but that’s to avoid feeling stuff. I know I need to work on that more.’
Christa gave him a small smile. ‘They boys adore you,’ she said.
‘They also adore you,’ he replied. He waited for a moment and then leaned over the table. ‘Can I come out with you tomorrow night? I’d like to help.’
‘Sure, I think Zane said they’re still a few people down so he would be happy with the extra pair of hands.’ She stifled a yawn.
‘Come on, home to bed. Want a lift? I can get someone to pick up your car tomorrow.’
Christa thought about the drive home in the dark, worrying that a deer might spring out from behind a tree and into the path of her car.
‘That would be great actually,’ she said.
The drive back to Pudding Hall was smooth in the large car and, in the silence, Christa felt her eyes heavy from the work and from crying. She shouldn’t have cried in front of her boss. She told herself off as she watched the shape of the trees flash by her. Soon her eyes closed and she leaned her head back for a moment.
‘Christa, Christa.’ She heard her name whispered and she opened her eyes.
God, she had been asleep in Marc’s car and she was pretty sure there was dribble running from one side of her face down onto her coat.
Seriously? She was a mess.
‘God, sorry,’ she uttered, as she undid her seat belt and wiped her mouth.
Marc held her hand as she stepped out of the car.
